


Mercy in You

by Sineala



Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Aftercare, Avengers Vol. 3 (1998), BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dom Steve Rogers, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining, Praise Kink, Scene Gone Wrong, Sub Tony Stark, Subdrop, Subspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:47:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22212802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sineala/pseuds/Sineala
Summary: When Tony comes back from a very bad D/s date, in pain and abandoned by his dom, Steve offers to help Tony out and give him all the aftercare he so desperately needs.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 210
Kudos: 1800
Collections: Avengers Collection, Great stories, You Gave Me A Stocking 2019





	Mercy in You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [phoenixmetaphor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixmetaphor/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Твое милосердие](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29557356) by [WTF STony 2021 (WTF_STony_2020)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WTF_STony_2020/pseuds/WTF%20STony%202021)



> Hi, phoenix! I tried to fit as many of your favorite h/c tropes as I could in one story! I hope you like it!
> 
> Thanks to iso, hopelesse, and Blossom for beta.

It was just past one in the morning, and Steve was stretched out on one of the couches in the library, rereading his beloved Tolkien. He'd meant to go to bed earlier, but he'd been caught up in it all again, the Fellowship finally forming, and he'd felt like he couldn't stop until he'd at least gotten there. He was going to be tired tomorrow, but it would be worth it.

So far away that no one but him would have been able to hear it, he heard the mansion's front door open, and then shut more heavily, and he frowned, because everyone was accounted for. The rest of the team -- Carol, Wanda, Clint, Thor, Vision, Angel, Vance -- were all in their rooms, and even Jarvis had turned in for the night hours ago. The only person who wasn't here was Tony, and he shouldn't be back, not now. This was the wrong time.

Tony had gone out earlier this evening on a date, wearing one of his better suits, smiling one of his better smiles. But the thing was, this wasn't the time that he came back from them. Either he had a lovely dinner and came home a few hours later, or he stayed the night and Steve didn't see him until the next day. And while Steve could acknowledge that Tony was an adult and could make his own decisions about his love life -- the fact that Steve desperately wished it involved himself instead of anyone else being, of course, irrelevant -- this was strange behavior for Tony. He either stayed the night with his chosen paramour or he didn't. He didn't just... come back in the middle of the night.

Steve knew it wasn't any of his business, but it was unusual, and it was worrying him. Before he was quite conscious of doing so, he'd set the book on a side table and gotten up, his feet carrying him through the familiar corridors of the mansion. He hoped Tony was okay. It was probably nothing. Some kind of everyday inconvenience. Flat tire on the way home.

The lights in the foyer were dimmed for evening, but still bright enough that he could tell it was Tony, even if he couldn't tell much more. Tony was moving a little too slowly, hunched into himself, and something about his gait wasn't right. Tony's head was down, swaying. He hadn't looked up. This was wrong. Steve could tell that much without needing to see his face. Something had happened.

"Tony?" Steve ventured, in mounting concern. "Everything okay?"

Tony practically jumped a foot in the air, like he hadn't even known Steve was there, and winced, physically winced.

"Goddammit," Tony said, sotto voce; Steve hadn't been meant to hear. "Steve, you're-- you're one of my favorite people in the world, but also, no offense, right now you're the last person I want to see," he said, and there was something wrong with his voice, something breathy and shaking in the way he said it. like he was just barely holding himself together.

The rejection stung, but Steve held fast. "You're not okay, are you?"

"It was a bad date," Tony said, the sentence snapping out of him with unexpected viciousness. "Let's just leave it at that."

Steve held up his hands. "Okay," he murmured. "I'm sorry. I'm not asking. I'll see you in the morning."

"Good," Tony said, and Tony took another few steps into the light, coming closer so he could get past Steve and upstairs, and he was-- he was--

Tony was _limping_ , and now that Steve looked at him, really looked at him, everything was wrong. The buttons of his shirt were done up unevenly. Where it gaped, Steve could see bruises at his neck. His cuffs were undone, and Steve could see more bruising there too, swelling around his wrists.

When Tony had left the house, he'd smelled like expensive cologne. Now he smelled like come, and the tackiness of drying lube, and -- oh God -- the faintest traces of blood.

Tony took another step and he was swaying, stumbling. His eyes were blank.

Steve had to do something. He couldn't just leave Tony like this. God, what had happened?

"I can smell him on you," Steve said. The gender was a guess, but there was something there in the scent that wasn't Tony. "And I can smell _blood_."

Tony froze. The expression on his face was pure terror for half a second, and then very carefully blank.

"Like I said," Tony repeated, his eyes gone dull once again. "It was a bad date."

"Look," Steve said, desperately, "Tony, if he hurt you--"

Tony's mouth peeled back; it wasn't quite a smile. "Yeah, this was the conversation I didn't want to have with you, Cap. I don't know if anyone's ever filled you in on how some people like it these days, but I like it rough. I asked for this. Now will you let me go to bed?"

Ah, yes, of course. Captain America wasn't expected to know about any of that. Picturing Captain America having sex was probably like picturing your parents. Captain America, if he had sex at all, had sweetly vanilla heterosexual sex in the missionary position, under the covers, with the lights off. Steve thought Tony would have known better by now -- but then, Tony wasn't in the best state of mind.

He couldn't leave Tony like this. Tony needed help. Especially if a scene had gone badly, he needed help from someone who knew what one was supposed to be like, and right now that was Steve. He hadn't actually topped anyone in years, but for God's sake he knew what aftercare was.

"No," Steve said, and Tony's mouth twisted again. "And I want you to tell me his name."

"None of your business," Tony snapped back. "Why?"

"So I can make sure he never has a scene with you or anyone else ever again," Steve said, and Tony took a wobbling step back, surprised. "Because right now, I'm thinking you went home with a dom who didn't listen to a goddamn thing you wanted, and even if you wanted to be hurt, you sure didn't want it like this. You're limping, and you have visible bruises, which I imagine you probably would have said no to, and you clearly got absolutely nothing in the way of aftercare."

_I wish you'd asked me_ , he thought. _I'd have treated you right._

Tony's mouth had fallen open. "Steve?"

"I'm not naive," Steve said. "I do know what kink is, and right now I know you need someone to look after you. To take care of you. To keep you company. And I'm offering."

There was a wavering hope in Tony's eyes. "You-- you can't really mean that. I don't deserve-- you can't just--"

"I mean it," Steve said. He hoped he sounded gentle to Tony and not just firm. Right now, Tony needed some kindness. "Whatever you need, Tony. You deserve it. I know how to do this. I know what I'm doing. You'll be safe with me."

_Maybe I'm not the fella you went out with_ , he wanted to say. _But I'm the one you can come home to._

"Safe?" Tony whispered, eyes widening, like that had been the magic word.

"Safe as houses," Steve told him. "I promise. I absolutely promise."

Steve held out his hand, and, after a few seconds, Tony took it.

* * *

Tony was stumbling more as they went up the stairs, and Steve put his arm around him to keep him upright. Tony made a soft, wounded noise, and when Steve glanced over, he was biting his lip.

"Sorry," Tony said. "I know, it's just pain, I can take it, I need to be quieter--"

Did he seriously think that was the problem?

"No, it's all right," Steve said. "I just-- I was trying to help you and touch you somewhere that didn't hurt. But I don't know where that is."

"Oh," Tony said, softly, mouth wobbling, like he'd never considered that. "Put your arm a little lower, maybe?"

Steve slid his arm down past Tony's shoulders, almost around his waist, and Tony instantly relaxed, leaning into him a little more.

It was good enough for right now.

* * *

Tony managed to get his keys out of his pocket but let Steve fumble with them until he found the right one, opening Tony's door, pulling them both inside, and then closing and locking the door behind him.

And that was when Tony fell apart completely.

Tony turned to him, wrapped his arms around him, tucked his face against the juncture of Steve's neck and shoulder, cheek against the soft cotton of Steve's worn t-shirt -- and he started crying. He was crying messily, huge racking sobs, staining Steve's shirt with tears, smearing salt against his skin. Steve realized Tony had probably spent the entire trip home desperately holding all this inside him.

His arms instinctively went up, but then he remembered Tony's shoulders and left his hands in the middle of Tony's back, gently stroking Tony's spine. That didn't seem to be hurting him more, at least.

"You can't," Tony said, hiccuping, "you can't tell anyone, Steve, please, you can't tell anyone I'm like this--"

Steve knew what the Captain America answer was, which was that consenting adults could do what they damn well pleased in their own bedrooms, but he knew that wasn't what Tony wanted to hear. "It's all right," he murmured. "I'm not telling anyone, okay? But I want you to know that there's nothing wrong with you. You had a bad scene and it wasn't your fault. Nothing that happened to you was your fault."

And currently he wanted to beat the stuffing out of whoever had done this to Tony and left him like this, but that wasn't Tony's problem.

Tony sniffed messily and clutched Steve tighter. His eyes were red now, an ugly tracery of broken capillaries. Steve wondered if Tony's dom had made him cry.

"I'm such an idiot," Tony whispered into Steve's throat, leaning all his weight on him. "I wanted-- I just wanted to feel good. I wanted to be happy. I wanted to be good for someone. I can't-- I can't. I'm a shitty sub. I'm never good enough."

_You're perfect for me_. Steve bit back the words. Tony didn't need to know.

Steve carefully brought one hand up and dared to pet Tony's hair, brushing his fingers through Tony's sweaty curls. "You're the smartest man I know," Steve said, softly. "And it's okay to want to feel good. To feel happy. To-- to want to submit to someone. The way I see it, a good dom should be grateful for their sub. Honored, really. That someone's trusting them that much."

There was a careful pause. "The way you see it, huh?"

He knew what Tony was asking. "It's been a while," he admitted, "but... with the right person, yeah, I've been known to top. It's not something I've felt the need to do with all my partners, if that's what you're asking, but I know enough to know what I'm doing. And I know I'm not the dom you wanted for the evening, but I hope you'll trust me enough to let me take care of you through the rest of it."

Tony was still shaking against him. "I trust you. I trust you with my life every day. You know I trust you." But he was saying it like he was trying to convince himself, and Steve knew why.

"Shh, I know," Steve said, and he couldn't resist petting Tony's hair again; even though he knew it was something selfish, a closeness he shouldn't allow himself, it did make Tony sigh against him and tremble a little less. "But it's a different kind of trust and it's natural to expect that you... have some hesitation."

The word he wanted to say was _fear_ , but he knew Tony didn't want to hear it.

"Maybe a little," Tony said, after a pause, and his voice cracked on the words.

Steve drew a deep breath. "Okay. Well. When I scene with someone--" _if I were your dom, if I were your dom_ \-- "I like to be very clear about setting the parameters, unless I'm with someone who doesn't want to know what's going to happen next, and even then I let them know what options are on the table. I don't just mean setting limits. I mean discussing what I'm going to do, so they know what to expect. So I think if I tell you now what I'd like to do, you'll feel a bit better, right? I know this isn't the scene but... it's still your body."

"Right," Tony said, but he sounded like he thought bodily autonomy was one of those things that applied to other people. "Okay."

"So," Steve began. "I'm going to want you to strip as much as you're comfortable with, so I can see the extent of the damage. You don't have to tell me anything about the scene. I'm not going to ask anything beyond what I need to know to help you. Then you're probably going to want to take a shower or at least get a washcloth, and I can wait here while you do that and prep your first aid kit. Then I'm going to see what I can bandage up, and then you can get some nice clean clothes on. And after that it's up to you. All of this is up to you, actually. If you want me to leave now--"

Tony's fingers dug desperately into his arms. "Please don't leave."

"Okay," Steve said, and some unworthy part of him was grateful that Tony wanted that. "Not leaving. But what I meant is that I'll stay as long as you need me to. I'll do whatever you need me to. I'm not-- I'm not coming on to you," he clarified. "That's not what this is about. But if you need me to stay all night and hold you, I will. Whatever you need. And if I do something you're not comfortable with, no matter what it is, tell me and I'll stop. Immediately."

Raising his head, Tony blinked up at him. His eyes were still red, his face tear-stained. "This is how you actually are when you dom someone, huh?"

Confused, Steve nodded. "It's about taking care of someone," he said, and he thought maybe that was why he liked it so much. "Even when the scene's over. Just in different ways."

Tony's laugh was sad. "Jesus," he said, "have I ever been unlucky."

_Me_ , Steve thought, desperately. _Pick me_.

* * *

This wasn't how he'd ever dreamed of undressing Tony.

Tony's hands were shaking too badly, so Steve undid Tony's coat for him, then his tie, and then the misaligned buttons of his shirt, which gaped open on a strip of bare skin; he hadn't been wearing an undershirt. Then he stepped around Tony to get it all off him, and he stared as he pulled the coat away and saw dried blood, soaked through the shirt at Tony's shoulders in horizontal stripes. That-- that was a hell of a lot of blood for a scene; it was more on the level of what Steve associated with their actual day job, and even then it would have been a lot.

Steve couldn't look away.

He hadn't-- he should have expected it. _I like it rough_ , Tony had said. Had he meant this? Had he asked for it this hard? Steve didn't play this hard. He would have said no to anyone without a healing factor, and maybe not even then. Was this what made Tony happy?

But he'd promised Tony he wouldn't ask.

"It's not-- it's not that bad, is it?" Tony asked, his voice once again trembling, and Steve realized there was no way Tony knew what his own back looked like. Maybe Tony hadn't asked for this. Maybe this was just something his awful dom had done to him.

"Well," Steve said, trying to keep his voice calm, unworried. "You're definitely going to need a new shirt. Also, this part's probably going to hurt a little. I'm sorry."

Gingerly, he peeled the shirt away from Tony's shoulders, working it slowly where it was stuck, feeling guilty as he heard Tony hiss in renewed pain. He let the shirt drop and finally looked up, looked at Tony the way he was supposed to be looking at him, not letting his feelings cloud this.

At least the asshole had known where to hit him. It was a whip -- had probably been a whip, anyway -- and while his aim hadn't been great, he'd stuck to Tony's shoulders, and that was safe enough. Steve didn't have to worry about Tony's kidney function, which was good. He had enough to worry about.

There were smaller bruises up the side of Tony's neck, little kissing bruises, some with the imprints of teeth, and Steve could feel himself flush with a terrible jealousy as he pictured this man kissing him possessively. Some of the bruises were above the collars of Tony's shirts. People would be able to see.

No. Right. He breathed in and out. Objectivity.

There wasn't much he could do about the whip weals except get Tony washed off and add some antibiotic gel. He'd tell Tony that. He paced around to the front of him -- and then stopped, half-shocked, because there was more. Of course there was more.

There were the cuff marks, but he'd seen those, he'd been expecting those. Those would go away on their own in a bit, and Tony's hands were clearly fine. But--

Tony's nipples were bruised, abused messes. There were more teeth marks. Of course there were.

Tony glanced down at his own chest, and then back up at Steve. "I don't think there's nerve damage," he said, uncertainly, like he wanted to reassure Steve but that this was difficult when Steve probably looked like he wanted to commit first-degree murder. "I, uh, I definitely have sensation." Tony swallowed hard. "There were, uh, clamps as well. Weighted ones. I think-- I think maybe he left them on too long but I-- I didn't ask him to stop."

Steve was doing this all wrong. "It's okay," he said, taking a deep breath. "You didn't do anything wrong. And you don't need to tell me anything you don't want to tell me."

"I just," Tony said, voice infused with the deepest shame. "I just wanted to be good. I wanted to take it. I wanted to be good for him."

Steve wanted to find every dom Tony had ever been with and strangle them. "I'm sure you were," he said, his voice hoarse, and he knew this was more than he should say, this was dangerously more than he should say. "I'm sure you were so good for him."

"Yeah, well," Tony said, and he was wobbling again where he stood, eyes fallen shut in misery. "That wasn't what he said."

* * *

Steve was kneeling in front of Tony, unlacing his shoes for him, so Tony could lean his weight on Steve, balancing first on one foot and then the other while Steve tugged his shoes and socks off.

"I'm just guessing," Steve said, "but maybe you don't want to sit down right now, huh?"

Steve sat back on his heels in time to see Tony's very forced smile, but a smile nonetheless.

"Not really," he said, and, God, he was still shaking, his voice so sad. "So I'm thinking about a shower rather than a bath."

"Makes sense," Steve said. He stood up and waved his hands a little uselessly. "I guess I'll, uh. I'll be out here."

He wasn't about to invite himself in. Tony could manage this, couldn't he?

"Sure thing," Tony said, with another forced smile. "I'll bring you the first aid supplies on my way back." And with that he turned and limped, painstakingly slowly, toward the bathroom, leaning heavily on the doorframe for a few seconds before making his way inside. The door closed with a resolute click.

For lack of anything else to do, Steve sat down hard on the edge of Tony's bed.

He'd dreamed about being here, once. More than once. Dozens, hundreds of times, maybe. In his fantasies, Tony smiled at him, batted his lashes, invited him here, pulled him close and kissed him.

That wasn't how any of this was going to go, was it?

Then Tony's voice came, very quietly, through the door. "Steve?"

Steve realized belatedly that he hadn't heard the water come on. "Yeah? Everything okay?"

"I, um," Tony said, a little more softly. "Maybe you could come in? If it won't bother you."

"It won't bother me," Steve returned, in an instant, and he was at the door, opening it as fast as he could, and then, despite himself, he was stopping and staring at Tony, standing in a tangled pool of his pants and underwear.

This really wasn't how he'd imagined seeing Tony naked, either. It wasn't quite what he'd been thinking Tony's condition would be; Tony's cock was soft, limp, and reconstructing from the general state of his clothing, it didn't look like he'd ever even gotten off.

His top, however, definitely had. Tony's backside was a mass of welts, some of which looked to have been bleeding, from the backs and insides of his thighs all the way up to his ass, where the worst of the damage had been. His ass was spattered with dried come and smeared with lube. Steve couldn't quite tell whether the bastard had come in him or just on him and, unfortunately for Tony, the distinction was important. He knew Tony would have wanted to be safe, but he had no idea what that asshole had done to him.

And even worse, that wasn't the question Tony seemed to want to answer for him. "He said I'd only get to come if I was good," Tony said, low and broken, sounding like he was going to cry again. "I-- I-- I wasn't good. I wasn't."

_Oh, sweetheart, no._

"Hey, hey, it's all right," Steve said, editing his response down to something appropriate. "It's okay. But listen: I do have to ask you something. Did he come on you or in you? It, uh. It kind of makes a difference as to how I have to handle this, you know?"

Tony lifted his head and, yeah, he was definitely crying again. God. "I told him," he said, and there was a hint of his usual determination. "I told him he had to use a condom, and I'm pretty sure he did when he was in me? I heard a wrapper but I was-- I was face down on the bed and I couldn't see him and not a lot of things were making sense and I don't-- I don't--"

"Shh," Steve said, rubbing Tony's arm, resisting the urge to pull him close. "It's okay."

At least, he thought, at least that was one worry taken care of.

"He must have pulled out and taken the condom off," Tony said, head down again. "I don't-- he was saying something about what I deserved when he came on my ass, what a mess I was-- I didn't-- I was trying not to remember it, I guess. I just wanted it to be over. God, Steve, you must think I'm so stupid."

"You're the farthest thing from stupid in the whole world."

Tony pointed one wavering hand at the shower. "I'm a terrible sub and I don't think I can even hold myself up long enough to take a shower like a normal person, all because I got myself into a terrible scene that I asked for. How is that not stupid?"

Steve tried not to grit his teeth. "It was your dom's responsibility to make sure you were having a good time, Tony, not just beat the shit out of you and hope that made you happy. And as for the other part of your problem, there's an obvious answer for that." He stepped back and hauled his t-shirt over his head.

Tony stared at him in seeming incomprehension. "What?"

"I'm joining you," Steve said, helpfully, kicking off his pajama pants, and then his socks. "In the shower."

"What?" Tony said again, like his brain was stuck on the idea. "You can't do that."

"Sure I can." Steve hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his briefs. "If you think I've never showered with another man, I have some news for you about the United States Army." He paused. "And also, uh, my love life."

That was what seemed to make Tony's brain restart; his eyebrows rose and he blinked a few times in an odd kind of surprise that Steve hoped wasn't a bad kind of surprise. More than anything, he just looked... wistful? It was strange. "We're learning a lot about each other tonight, huh?" he murmured.

"I suppose we are," Steve agreed. At least that hadn't been disapproval, per se. "Look, if it makes you uncomfortable, I don't have to. I can stay out here. Or, hell, I can keep my underwear on, if that helps. I was just thinking that, that way, I could hold you up if you needed it and help get you clean. I won't let you fall."

Tony was looking at him like he thought he was too good to be true. Like Steve was some stack of legal contracts for SI and he had to find the catch. "You can't possibly want to come scrub someone else's bodily fluids off my ass."

_You have no idea what I would do for you_ , Steve didn't tell him. _Anything. Everything._

"Who said anything about scrubbing?" Steve said. "I'll be gentle, I swear."

Tony laughed another one of those sad laughs. "Funny," he said, "that's the exact opposite of what the last guy said to me." And before Steve could come up with a response to that that wasn't punching the mirror in sheer frustration and helpless sadness, Tony glanced down and raised his eyebrows again, a gesture that in Steve's imagination might once have been innuendo but sure couldn't have been now. "Come on, then, soldier. Strip."

Steve wasn't going to have any fantasies left by the end of the night, but as long as Tony made it through this okay, he couldn't bring himself to care.

* * *

As soon as they got in the shower, Tony turned the water pressure all the way down, passed Steve a washcloth, and promptly turned to face away from him. For all his outright demand that Steve strip, he didn't even think Tony had looked anywhere below his shoulders -- and yet Steve couldn't stop thinking about it. Here he was, naked, with Tony. He'd had years of fantasies about this. Steve felt like the worst person in the world for thinking this now, of all times, but the tension was weighing heavily on him, an aching void of possibility that could never be.

Tony didn't want him, Tony wasn't ever going to want him, and Steve had promised to take care of him in a way that definitely did not include daydreaming about what would happen if Tony turned around, if Tony would let him kiss him with all the tenderness in him and wash the memory of this terrible night away--

None of that. Steve had a job to do.

He reached over Tony's shoulder to dampen the washcloth, and then, after adding some plain antibacterial soap -- Tony did have some amidst all the scented products -- decided he'd start at the top, with Tony's shoulders. It would make more sense like that.

"My apologies in advance," Steve told him, "because this is going to hurt, and not in the fun way."

He heard Tony laugh -- that had to be good, right, if Tony could get some part of his sense of humor back? "Go for it."

Steve had meant to start with the lash marks on Tony's back themselves, but he found that, despite himself, his hand had gravitated toward the back of Tony's neck, and was gently stroking the marks of Tony's dom's brutal kisses, like he could wipe them away.

Tony made a small, soft noise, and swayed on his feet, and Steve hurriedly braced him with his other hand so he wouldn't fall. "Sorry, sorry," Steve murmured. "I've got you."

He was letting his feelings get to him again. He couldn't afford that.

Gingerly, he wiped the cloth over the wounds on Tony's back. The water was running red down Tony's spine, but the weals didn't look half so bad, really, now that the blood was off them, and they'd be just fine with Neosporin. Tony would be okay. And Tony was holding still, holding himself up again, so he had to be feeling a little better. That was a good sign.

"You're doing so well for me," he told Tony, and then stopped, horrified, because those were definitely not the words he'd meant to come out of his mouth, but he was stupidly in love and not thinking and it was clear now that Tony had a praise kink a mile wide and something in Steve's brain had just filed that away as _Tony likes compliments and I like Tony and I should give him more_.

Tony made a noise that didn't sound at all happy as he ducked his head under the shower spray. "Look, I get it," he said, and he sounded like he thought Steve was _mocking_ him and that was even worse. "I'm weak and I'm needy, but you don't have to-- you don't have to pretend you think anything nice about me. Not like that. You don't have to say that."

"I wasn't pretending." 

What was he supposed to say except the truth? 

"I wouldn't tell you something if it wasn't the truth. You know that." He didn't know what to say now; he shouldn't have started it, but now that he had, he had to see it through, and that meant parting with at least some of his feelings for Tony. "And if it's going to make you happier to tell you how much I admire and respect you, and, yes, how good of a person I think you are, then I'm going to keep telling you that. It's not weak or needy to want to be praised. You had a bad night and your dom didn't take care of you. He should have told you all this, but he didn't. So I'm the one who's here, telling you this, as much as you need it."

"You shouldn't," Tony said, softly, his voice still miserable. "It's dangerous."

"Why"

"I'll get used to it," Tony said, and he was shaking again, "and then-- then you'll just stop-- and I'll--"

Steve had one hand on Tony's side and the other on Tony's shoulder, the only caress he allowed himself. "I won't."

"You can't promise that."

_I've loved you for ten years. I'm not going to stop now._

"You were my first friend in the future," Steve said, because that at least was true. "And you're one of the finest men I know. And I'm going to keep telling you that until you believe it."

"That'll take a while," Tony said, under his breath, but he was raising his face into the spray now, washing off the tears.

Steve knelt down behind him.

"I've got time," he said. "Going to clean up the rest of you now. Remember, you can tell me to stop if you want."

He could see Tony shudder. "No, go on," Tony said. And then, softer: "Just... keep talking? Tell me it's you?"

_Oh, God, Tony_.

"You'll know it's me," Steve began, not really sure what he was going to say, knowing that he had to say something. He tentatively wrapped his hand around Tony's calf, and Tony jumped, then stilled. There was more bruising around Tony's ankles, but not as dramatic as his wrists; Steve guessed the fetters hadn't been as tight.

"I will?"

"Mmm-hmm," Steve said, sliding the washcloth carefully up Tony's legs, up to where the bruising on his thighs began. "It's because I have terrible hands, you see."

Tony's laugh was startled. "What?"

"It's the shield," Steve explained, as he began to delicately wipe the mess of come and lube from Tony's body. There wasn't much blood from the marks, mostly bruising, so that meant Tony was probably okay but they were still going to run a panel in the morning anyway, which Tony probably already had been planning on. "I've got calluses all the time. On my fingers. On my palms. Even with the gloves on. Even with the serum, it's just too frequent an injury to heal properly, since I'm using the shield every day. So that's how you'll always know it's me. The terrible hands."

Tony seemed to be a lot more relaxed by the end of Steve's speech, hardly shaking at all -- and then he reached back, flailed around, and brushed Steve's fingertips. "I don't know about that," Tony said, quietly, and Steve's heart skipped a beat. "They seem soft to me."

"That's just because I told you I'd be gentle." Steve struggled to remember how to breathe again. "I meant it." And then he swallowed hard. "Up next is the part that it would be really, really okay if you want to say no to, but I want to check if you're bleeding. I won't-- nothing will be inside you, okay?"

"Okay," Tony said.

And, yep, there was that tension again -- Tony was bracing both his hands against the shower wall, like he thought it was a medical exam.

"I'm just going to look," Steve said, in case this was somehow unclear. "It's going to hurt a bit because I have to touch your skin to get a better view, but I'm just looking, okay?"

He looked up. Tony's head bobbed as he nodded. "If you wanted," Tony began, hesitantly. "If you needed to. I trust you. You could."

Oh, Steve's besotted brain definitely did not need that as ammunition. "I'm glad you trust me," Steve finally managed to say, "but I don't want to harm you any more right now. Just looking, okay?"

"Okay," Tony repeated.

Tony hissed when Steve had to touch his ass, to spread his ass cheeks. Steve swallowed, furtive, guilty, knowing this was an intimacy he didn't deserve, seeing Tony held open like this.

He told himself to be professional. It looked like it had been rough -- Tony had definitely been fucked hard, as if the limping hadn't given that away -- but there was no blood that he could see.

"You look okay," he told Tony. "You're going to be fine."

"Thank you." Tony's voice was barely above a whisper.

His job done for now, Steve stood up -- and then Tony turned to face him. There was still that faraway sadness in his eyes, but he was trying to smile, and God, he was naked and wet and right here and Steve needed to not think about how close they were.

"Uh," Tony said. "Just-- just thought I'd wash my back off."

See, there, it was innocent. Tony didn't want him.

"Not sure there's much you can do about the front side of me," Tony added, his voice dull. "I think there's a lot of bruising and that's it."

Well, now Steve had to look down. Tony seemed to be right; nothing there had broken the skin, just bruising at his neck and nipples and at his hips, bruises that fit the shape of a man's fingers, and Steve shut his eyes and tried not to imagine it, Tony held down and fucked and taking it because he just wanted his worthless dom to praise him, and he was never going to.

"Steve?" Tony asked, and there was a tentative hand on his shoulder. "Are _you_ okay?"

He had to hold together for Tony. "Fine."

* * *

"Stay there one second," he told Tony, as Tony turned off the water. "I'll help you out. Just let me get myself dried off first."

Luckily, Tony had a stack of extra towels, and Steve dried himself off as fast as humanly possible before slipping back into his pajamas. He knew Tony must be watching him. He tried not to think about it. It didn't mean anything. It couldn't.

"Okay, come here," he said, offering a hand, which Tony took again. It was clear Tony was more than a little shaky. "I'm going to pat you dry, nice and gentle, try not to aggravate any of the injuries, okay?"

"Okay," Tony said, but then his eyes went round when Steve dropped to his knees right there on the bathroom rug. "Steve, what are you doing? You don't need to--"

"Maybe I want to," Steve shot back, and he hadn't meant to say that at all either, but, God, it was so hard to remember right now that Tony wasn't for him.

"I just," Tony said. "I'm a sub, and here you are on your knees--"

Was that the problem? How could that be the problem?

Steve stopped with the towel wrapped around Tony's calf and blinked up at him. "You're telling me you've never had anyone do this for you?"

Tony stared at him like they were from two different planets and that those planets were possibly Hala and Skrullos. "You're a dom. It's not your responsibility. Why would you?"

This was bizarre. "You're in the scene and you've never met a service top in your life?"

He probably shouldn't have said that. Shouldn't have told Tony he liked it. It was too close, it was going to give everything away--

But Tony just shook his head. "Nope. I mean, I've seen guys say they are, on the websites, but I, uh, figured it wasn't what I wanted. Didn't really know what it was, to be honest, but it didn't sound like what I wanted."

He knew what Tony had wanted: pain. That was what he had said. He probably hadn't looked for anything beyond that.

Steve carefully patted his way up Tony's thighs, then stood up and dried his chest off for him with the gentlest possible taps of the towel.

Tony breathed in, once, and said nothing. His eyes were starting to soften.

"Pleasure to meet you," Steve said, wiping the towel over Tony's shoulder. "My name's Steve, and I'm a service top, and mostly that means I like to do whatever my subs want most that will make them really really happy, including pain, and take care of them the whole time."

Tony half-smiled. "Sounds nice. Guess I should have looked harder, huh?"

* * *

At Tony's direction, Steve had retrieved the first aid kit from the bathroom cabinet. Still leading Tony by the hand -- because Tony, honestly, looked like he really, really needed it, Steve brought him over to the bed. He fetched a few icepacks from the freezer in Tony's little fridge as quickly as he could, and he shook out two Advil from the bottle atop it.

"Here," he said, and he watched Tony dry-swallow the pills. He ought to have thought of it sooner. Sometimes he didn't think of these things because he never needed them himself.

"Thanks."

"Before you get dressed, I don't think there's much I can do about the bruising on your front, but I want to see what I can do about your back," Steve said, and Tony nodded. "So I'm thinking it would be easier if you laid down on your front. Is that a thing you feel okay doing for me?"

"Sure," Tony said, immediately. "I mean, my nipples hurt like hell, but that's my fault, isn't it?"

Steve really wished he didn't have to think about Tony's nipples again. Someone had hurt Tony and they hadn't even hurt him _right_. If he'd done it to Tony, he'd have made sure Tony liked it. And that wasn't even the point.

"No," Steve clarified, "I meant more, are you going to be okay right now lying face down in bed while I touch you? I don't want to make you think of-- of anything that happened tonight."

Tony's smile was wan. "You're sweet, Cap, But I'll be fine. Besides, you said I'd know it was you, Captain Terrible Hands."

Steve couldn't help but laugh a little. "Okay. Right."

After a few minutes of fussing with wrapping the icepacks, he finally settled one atop the bruised sections of Tony's thighs, and for the first time tonight Tony sighed in something that felt like relief. Steve couldn't stop the bright flare of contentment from lightening his chest. He just-- he liked taking care of Tony. And no one was getting off on this, so Tony wasn't going to know, so everything would be fine.

He still couldn't resist asking, though. "That feeling any better?"

"Oh, yeah," Tony said, his voice a little lazier. His head was pillowed on his arms, face turned away. "That's nice. Thank you."

"My pleasure," Steve said, once again completely accidentally, but Tony didn't seem to have noticed.

He found the Neosporin tube in Tony's kit, squeezed out some on his fingertips, and slathered it over the wounds across Tony's shoulders. Luckily, the marks across Tony's ass were barely bleeding, but Steve still thought Tony would appreciate some warning. He coughed. "Little lower now."

"Knock yourself out," Tony said.

Steve was a little gentler this time -- obviously Tony didn't want him to touch him here -- so he worked as quickly as he could, then capped the Neosporin and shifted the icepack up to Tony's shoulders as Tony lay there in silence. He put the last icepack across Tony's ass for good measure.

"You know, I really did ask for this," Tony said, very softly, into his folded arms. "I did."

They didn't have to talk about this. Steve wasn't sure he could talk about this. "I know," he said. "I believe you."

"It's not that I don't like pain," Tony said. "It-- it can get me there, you know? And that was what I wanted. But I have to be -- I don't know how to say it, in the right mood? Or it doesn't work. It really doesn't work. And tonight was just... one of those nights. I thought it would work. He looked like a nice guy, when we agreed to meet up. But it wasn't working, and I thought if he just went harder I could give him what he wanted, I could be a good sub for him. But it wasn't working, and I-- I guess he got mad. Frustrated." Tony's voice shook. "I let him down. And then I just thought, well, might as well let him finish. Make someone happy."

"Oh, Tony," Steve said, softly. "It wasn't your fault, okay? You didn't do anything wrong. Sometimes subspace just doesn't happen."

There was a pause. "Subspace?"

Steve wondered how the hell he knew more about kink than Tony. He wondered if Tony had deliberately decided not to know. If he'd been too ashamed to find out.

"When the pain starts feeling so nice that your brain turns off for a bit," Steve said. "Or so they tell me. I hear it's nice. It sure looks nice."

There was another pause. "I really don't know anything, do I?"

"Well, you've got me."

That was definitely another sentence that he should not have said.

Luckily, Tony didn't seem to pick up on it. "Could you do me a favor, while you're playing nurse?"

"Sure, anything," Steve said, and he winced, but Tony hadn't noticed that either. He busied himself taking the icepacks off.

"I've got some arnica gel in the kit," Tony said. "Maybe... you could put it on some of the bruises?"

"Of course."

He was grateful for the reprieve, because it gave him something to focus on, like painting: dabbing little smears of gel on Tony's neck, on his shoulders, on his hips, and then finally across Tony's abraded ass and thighs.

When he was nearly done, Tony made a small noise in the back of his throat.

"Are you all right?" Steve asked, urgently. "Is there a problem?"

"Not, um," Tony said, face muffled even more by his arms. "Not exactly a problem. But I sure hope you don't want me to turn over right now."

Oh.

_Don't think about how Tony got hard because you touched him_ , he chanted. _Don't. You can't have him._

"It's okay," Steve said, and he hoped to God he sounded reassuring. "It's perfectly natural. Sometimes these things just happen."

"Yeah," Tony said, awkwardly. "Yeah, I guess so. Anyway, I'm just going to... lie very still for a few minutes, if you don't mind."

_You said you'd get to come if you were good_ , he imagined telling Tony. _You're so good for me. You deserve this._

"Yeah, that sounds fine," Steve said, and it was a really, really good thing Tony wasn't looking at him.

They were going to survive this somehow, he told himself. He'd been pining after Tony for years. All he had to do was keep not telling him. He could do that.

* * *

Steve waited in silence for the excruciating few minutes during which they both pretended they weren't thinking about Tony's dick, and eventually, when he figured it had to be okay by now, he stood up.

"Do you have a favorite pair of pajamas I could get you?" Steve asked. "I mean, while I'm standing up, I might as well, right?"

"Um," Tony said, and he sounded more embarrassed than he had been about his erection. "You're going to laugh at me."

Did Tony really think so little of him? After everything he'd done for him tonight? "I absolutely am not going to laugh. Cross my heart."

"You will."

"No, I won't," Steve said, and he knew he sounded like Captain America again when he said it.

Tony sighed. "Fine. Top drawer, on the right, next to the underwear. I'd also like some boxers, while you're there. Something that's, uh, not tight."

Crossing the room and yanking open the dresser drawer, Steve found a pair of silky boxers that looked loose enough not to do any more damage to Tony, and steadfastly ignored the lacy lingerie. It wasn't his business, although it was strange that of all the things to be embarrassed about, Tony hadn't even mentioned that.

Then he moved over to the half of the drawer with the pajamas, and he saw what Tony had meant immediately. There was a pajama set, navy flannel, well-worn and well-loved, dotted with replicas of his own shield.

Oh. Tony's favorite pajamas were... him.

When Steve turned around, Tony had his head facing the other way, regarding him, waiting for his reaction. One blue eye was narrowed in fearful suspicion.

"I'm flattered, actually," Steve said, with a smile, because that was a better choice than _I'm madly in love with you and have been for years_.

"Liar," Tony said, like he had to know that couldn't be true but he had to say something.

"I have Iron Man underwear," Steve blurted out.

Okay, that one, that one he _absolutely_ shouldn't have said. Tony was staring at him, wide-eyed, stunned.

"Sam gave them to me for my birthday one year," Steve said, because, hell, he'd already opened his mouth. "I think he thought it was a joke, but, well, they're really comfortable. So I get it."

Actually, what Sam had said was _I'm going to keep buying you ridiculous Iron Man clothes for your birthday until you tell him how you feel about him_ but Tony really didn't need to know that part. What would Tony ever really want with him, anyway? He was a dinosaur. Tony was brilliant and rich and handsome and could have anyone he wanted, and he'd made it clear enough that it wasn't Steve he wanted to step out with.

The pajamas were probably just extra-soft or something. That must be it.

But Tony was smiling at him, a little smile, but it was a relief to see, like the sun after a long day of fog. "Okay, fine," Tony said. "You going to bring me my clothes, then?"

Getting Tony dressed, as it turned out, was still a little bit of an undignified affair, as Tony leaned on Steve for balance to get his underwear and pants on, while Steve politely averted his eyes. He did have to help Tony with the shirt, and Tony only hissed a little when the soft flannel fabric settled over his shoulders, but his fingers were coordinated enough now that he could do all the buttons himself. Thank God. Tony needed his hands.

Steve wanted to kiss his fingers, one by one.

"There we go," Steve said, because that at least was a safe option. He took a breath. "What happens next is up to you. If you want I can leave now, or I can stay. I can stay as long as you like."

Tony's gaze flicked away from him and didn't quite hit his eyes on the way back. "How long would you stay if it were real? If I were your real sub?"

Everything Steve wanted and couldn't have hit him hard and low, up and under his ribs, a sucker punch straight to the heart.

Steve licked his lips. "Probably at least an hour. More if you were in subspace and I didn't know how you'd handle coming out of it. I'd just-- I'd cuddle you. Talk about silly things. Whatever you wanted. Though I've never left someone feeling... badly... so I'd probably spend extra time with you if that was what you wanted. To make sure you'd be okay in the morning."

"That sounds nice," Tony breathed. "I-- I don't want you to go."

It was a bit presumptuous, perhaps, but Steve couldn't resist now. He pulled back the covers on Tony's bed, then laid down, beckoning Tony to join him. "Here I am," he told Tony. "Any way you like."

The bed shifted as Tony very briefly sat, wincing, but then Tony was cuddling up to him, half on him and half next to him, his head on Steve's chest. He pulled the covers up over both of them. After a second, his arm went around Steve's waist.

"Is this okay?"

It was what Tony needed. Tony didn't mean to torment him. Steve could take it.

"Whatever makes you feel better is okay," Steve told him. Maybe Captain America could lie a little. It wasn't really a lie. Tony needed it, so it was okay. He put one of his hands on the middle of Tony's back, where he knew Tony wasn't hurt. That was safe.

"You feel nice," Tony murmured against Steve's chest, blithely ignorant of the way his words made Steve feel. "I could fall asleep like this. Shouldn't, though. You probably don't want the team to find us like this in the morning."

"I absolutely do not care if the team finds us like this in the morning," Steve said, setting aside the part where he only wished it could have been because they were together. "It's what you need, Tony. I'm not about to apologize for that to anyone."

There came a long, thoughtful pause. Steve could feel Tony's chest rise and fall against his side. "Would you have done the same thing for any of the Avengers? Would you have done this for anyone else on the team, if they'd come home tonight in the same state I was in?"

What kind of question was that? Did Tony expect him not to want to help people?

"Yes, of course," he said, immediately, and Tony made a noise that sounded almost... unhappy? Steve hurried to clarify. "I mean, obviously there are people on the team I don't know as well, yet, and there are people whom I think I wouldn't be the best choice for in this situation, but I would try. Of course I would."

"Oh." Tony's exhalation was soft. "So it wasn't-- none of this was for me, especially? None of this was because it was me?"

Oh God. He'd figured it out. Steve could feel his heart rate spike. He knew, he knew now all about Steve's goddamn hopeless crush because Steve hadn't managed to keep his mouth shut well enough tonight.

"Uh," Steve said, desperate and inarticulate. "Um."

Of course Tony knew. Tony was a genius. Tony was--

\--breathing out, shakily, against Steve's chest, his face turned away. "The guy I went out with?" Tony began, his voice quivering like he was going to start crying again. "I picked him because he-- because he looked like you."

Tony couldn't mean that. He couldn't mean that how it sounded. He had to mean something else.

"He looked like he'd be nice to me, even if I wanted him to hit me, you know?" Tony continued. "Like I-- like I always imagined you'd be, not that I ever imagined you'd really be into this. When he smiled at me, when I met him, he really did look almost like you, and I thought I could pretend he was you and maybe it would work but he-- he wasn't nice at all." Tony's breathing was even more shaky. "And then I got home and you were here and you were-- you're-- you're everything I wish I had. Apparently you like guys. Hell, you're even into kink. But I get it. You're not interested in me. You're nice. You'd do this for anyone. You don't really want me. It's okay."

Tony hadn't known after all. And maybe this was worse, his chance slipping through his fingers. Steve took a deep breath. _Time to be brave, Avenger._

"Tony, I'm in love with you."

Tony raised his head and turned around, mouth open, face incredulous. "You're _what_?"

"In love with you," Steve repeated, even though he was sure Tony had heard him the first time. He could feel his own hand on Tony's back, trembling. "I have been for years. Since the day I met you. Since you pulled me out of the ice. I mean, for a while there I thought I was in love with two people, but--"

Tony interrupted him. "Me?"

Steve's heart was still pounding. "Yes, you. Always you. I just-- I never thought you'd want me. I've seen who you date. Rich, brilliant, glamorous people. Not anyone like me."

"Anyone like you?" Tony echoed, his face still frozen in disbelief. "Steve, there's no one else in the world like you. You're the best man I've ever known. And you-- you've seen me at my worst. You know what I'm really like. You pulled me out of the fire when I was drinking. You know about all my demons. You know every mistake and bad call I've ever made."

"Maybe so," Steve acknowledged. "But I still love you. Never going to stop."

Something in Tony's face went soft, then, sweet and open, the most beautiful Steve had ever seen him. "Really?"

"Really."

He should have guessed what Tony was going to do then, which was to slide up and try to kiss him. Steve hadn't moved his hand away fast enough, and Tony winced.

"Ow, fuck."

"Careful, your shoulders."

"Fuck my shoulders," Tony said, which was not the romantic statement Steve had spent a decade picturing, but it was going to have to do.

Tony leaned in and kissed him, gently, easily, and Steve could feel Tony relaxing as Steve kissed him back, like he'd been waiting for Steve to take charge of this, to let him rest, to put himself in Steve's hands. God, but he was going to be the sweetest sub.

"Wasn't exactly the part of you I was picturing involved in any fucking," Steve said, when they finally parted, "but, hey, whatever makes you happy."

Tony laughed and then winced again. "Not, uh. Not tonight, if that's okay?"

"Definitely not tonight," Steve said, half-horrified that Tony would even consider it. "I told you. Tonight is for cuddling."

He ran his fingers through Tony's hair and Tony sighed happily.

"There you go," he said, and he dared, greedily, to whisper the rest. "My Tony. Such a good sub. My perfect, perfect sub. You did so well for me tonight, Tony."

He could feel Tony relaxing even more, his weight pressing Steve to the bed. "I did?"

"You did," Steve told him. "You did exactly what I told you to, and you let me take care of you, and that made me so happy. You were so good for me."

"I feel really good," Tony said, with a slurred, pleased cadence in his voice that wasn't quite sleep. That-- God, that was subspace already?

Sure, he'd thought, from the way Tony talked about it, that maybe he could get there without being beaten half to death if he trusted his dom, but Steve hadn't expected this. Not with just a bit of cuddling and caring and praise.

Tony was going to be _amazing_.

"That's good," Steve told him, and Tony sighed happily. "You deserve it, sweetheart. You deserve everything wonderful in the world."

He didn't know if Tony had noticed the endearment; Tony's eyes were half-shut. He was falling asleep, smiling, and Steve smiled down at him and held him tight.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[PODFIC] Mercy in You by Sineala](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29374104) by [Pywren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pywren/pseuds/Pywren)




End file.
